


Waiting

by domini_moonbeam



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Attempted Rape/Non-Con, First Time, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance, Sex, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:54:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25400431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/domini_moonbeam/pseuds/domini_moonbeam
Summary: After a beat, Nicolo’s head bobbing in a tired nod. Yusuf patted his back, giving him a little shove toward the water. “Don’t drown! I don’t want to go in after you,” he said, backing away. Nicolo paused, glancing back at him, eyebrow raised and face painted in blood. There was a question there, in those incredible, expressive eyes—another question Nicolo would not say out loud. “And I would,” Yusuf answered this time. “I would go in after you. I would become a spirit of this forest, haunting that river until I found you.”
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 233
Kudos: 2026





	1. Chapter 1

It had been months, maybe onto years by the time they stopped killing each other. At times, Nicolo missed it, but he would never say that. He already suspected Yusuf had noticed and that was what had finally tipped their treacherous, thin alliance into something a little more solid—a little less murderous.

Waist deep in the lazy river, Nicolo reached up and brushed fingers against his own throat, water dripping down his skin. The last time Yusuf had killed him, he had strangled him. They had been fighting about something, God only remembers what, and Yusuf had ended up on top, hands around Nicolo's throat. Nicolo had stopped fighting, staring up at the other man, reveling in the feel of those hands on his skin, pressing his windpipe shut, crushing his trachea. Had he moaned? Nicolo might have moaned. It was the most alive he had felt since their first death, his body straining under the weight of Yusuf’s and free to stare up at his face. He didn’t look directly at Yusuf often, not unless they were about to kill each other.

And before he could black out, before he died, he saw the other man’s expression change. The anger there, the excitement and fun of their fight had gone, replaced by something else. Had that been confusion? Surprise? A new revulsion? Without oxygen, his mind lost the full memory at the end. When he revived, Yusuf was setting up camp. They hadn’t killed each other since—though they had killed many others.

And when they found this cut of river they had both stopped to marvel at it, both wanting to bathe but neither entirely trusting the other enough to strip down and wade into the water with him.

So, they had agreed to take different sections around a bend from one another.

Nicolo floated in the water and wondered if Yusuf had not been so worried about being drowned as he had been about being naked near Nicolo. Had he moaned that last time he died by his hand? He wished he could be sure, one way or the other.

He closed his eyes when clouds moved, letting the sun through to stare right back at him, orange through his lids before another cloud took position as cover.

It had been years since he felt clean.

He was loathe to leave the water, half-expecting his angry undead companion to come back before he finished and shout at him from the rocky shores. But he didn’t.

What if he left? Nicolo had been waiting for him to vanish in the night for weeks. They had taken turns ditching the other in the beginning, killing the other in the night, stealing supplies and disappearing only to be hunted down later on. It had become a game of sorts. But something had changed since that last death. They hadn’t betrayed each other since and Nicolo wasn’t sure he should or would chase Yusuf down if he left him now. Had their game ended? Were they simply traveling partners now?

He got out of the river, stalking back up to the shallows and the little patch of flat ground where he’d left his supplies and clothes. He used his fingers to shake his wet hair out, rubbing his jaw. He’d shaved with a knife before taking his dip. It was strange to feel this clean.

He stopped, ankle deep in the clean, moving water when he noticed the spot where his things had been, now a patch of flattened long grass and nothing more.

Nicolo frowned, hands on his hips. “Really?” he said allowed, not sure if he was talking to the man that had stolen his clothes or himself for thinking Yusuf wouldn’t. Hopefully it was some stupid childish prank and he hadn’t really taken off with everything. At least then he had an excuse to hunt him down. Though, how to do that completely fucking naked was going to be interesting.

He walked all the way out of the river and padded across the flat ground, between trees, looking around with a raised brow.

He realized too late that it wasn’t Yusuf messing with him. He only managed that by the scent he inhaled. Musty and dirty and sweaty, yes, but after so long in the worst conditions with Yusuf, he knew it wasn’t him.

They came out from behind trees.

He caught the grin on one man’s face just before the others rushed him.

Nicolo swore under his breath but moved fast, an elbow to one man’s nose and his knee slamming hard into an inner thigh, dropping him hard and ducking a third. A knife cut across the back of his calve and a second sliced into his back, enough to make him stagger before hands grabbed him, shoving him to the ground. He landed face down, the weight of the man on his back.

They spoke but he didn’t understand him. The world was full of languages and he was bent on learning them all if this immortality persisted.

They were discussing something. The one standing seemed to want him dead. Nicolo had learned to understand _that_ no matter the language. He didn’t recognize him, so he didn’t imagine it was personal.

But the others were arguing. Were they going to sell him? Eat him? That had never happened before. Could he survive being eaten?

The one that wanted him dead finally huffed and threw up his arms, waving them on before disappearing into the woods.

Nicolo was about to ask what the plan was, even if they couldn’t understand him, when he felt the man sitting on him shift, straddle his back and lean over him. He breathed against the side of Nicolo’s face and ground out words. He didn’t know what they meant, but the tone of them and the erection grinding against his spine made it clear.

He swore and as soon as the man shifted on top of him again, he twisted out from under him, breaking his own shoulder to get away and scrambling for his feet. He fought wildly, first trying to kill them and then just trying to get away. At one point he remembered trying to get back to the water. He’d rather drown and be swept away by the river.

* * *

Yusuf walked through the woods, bag slung over his shoulder. He’d thrown on his pants and tunic and stepped into his boots, hair still wet when he decided to go find his heathen partner in death. He was already hoping to surprise him—maybe catch him still bathing. He imagined Nicolo might blush to be caught. He had a quiet way about him, eyes so expressive he even tried to hide them—like Nicolo knew himself that he was giving things away with his own gaze.

He stopped in the trees, not sure why at first but holding perfectly still. He heard the whinny of a horse to the right, away from the river. Quietly, he put his things down at the base of a tree, drew his sword, and stalked quietly through the woods toward the sounds of two men speaking and the ruckus of gear.

He caught sight of them, just where the thicket dispersed into hillsides. There were six horses but only two men. They pulled empty water packs free and loaded gear, speaking to one another in a tongue Yusuf wasn’t familiar with. The gear piled onto their horses was a mismatch of designs. Thieves maybe? Or scavengers?

Yusuf was about to slip away, go find Nicolo and decide if they wanted to go unseen or steal a couple horses, when he noticed the gear one of the men was adding to his packs. Nicolos sword, his boots, his belt. Yusuf’s teeth clicked and he slid out of the woods, stalking straight for them. The horses startled first, the men looking up, it was all too late. Yusuf cut them down in two smooth strokes. He turned, surveying the long grass and the rest of Nicolo’s clothes tossed aside. He swore under his breath and started running into the woods, toward the spot the other man had taken at the river.

He heard shouting, angry howling between trees. Good. Noise meant violent and violence meant he wasn’t dead yet.

Yusuf stopped when he reached a body, a man that had been dragging himself away from the river and in the direction of the horses. He was still gurgling, gasping. His nose was broken, his eyes wild with pain and blood loss, and one hand clutching at his crotch. Yusuf stared for a moment too long, not understanding. And then he did. The man was bleeding a lot from the open front of his pants. “Son of a bitch,” Yusuf swung his sword again, nearly severing the mans head before running on toward the river. He would have liked to sit there and watch the man bleed out, but he didn’t have time. Funny, that, to be immortal and constantly running out of time.

Suddenly the sounds of violence were not comforting.

The river sparkled, the grass flattened in a sloppy circle and weighed down in blood.

Two men were standing over that naked body of lean muscle and ribs. Good meals had been scarce. They had starved once a few months back but things had been looking up. Until today.

Nicolo was bloody, gashes open on his skin glinting bone beneath. The big man over him was furious, roaring. He was missing a finger and had one broken arm. Nicolo was not a big man, but he was a brutal warrior. Yusuf had learned first hand.

He ran hard toward them, but he wasn’t fast enough. The big angry man had a rock in his good hand and brought it down, smashing it against Nicolos face again and again.

The second man tried to intercept Yusuf. He ran him threw and shoved him aside, taking those last steps to his partner. The angry man looked up just in time to lose his head. Yusuf moved fast, shoving him off of Nicolo before he could collapse onto him.

Yusuf knelt beside him, hovering over him. Nicolo was still alive but it was cruel. He was gasping and choking on his own blood, face unidentifiable, broken, one eye gone under swollen flesh and the other wild, staring at nothing.

“Nicolo,” Yusuf said, one hand hovering near his caved-in cheek, afraid to touch him and cause more pain. “Go. I will wait.” He said it in Nicolo’s Italian, desperate for him to hear it, to stop hanging on and fighting. His arms twitched in the grass, one hand still fisted, body tensing. “I will wait,” Yusuf said again. He had seen what Nicolo could do—how long he could hang on to life even when everything was pulling toward death. He had wondered many times if that was why the man was immortal—because of will alone. But that did not explain himself. And then that eye, teary and blood burst, looked at him. Yusuf stared back, humbled by what he saw. Nicolo relaxed. He let go of life. And he died.

Yusuf waited.

He sat down and carefully pulled Nicolo’s shoulders into his lap, his ruined skull laid across his thigh, hand hovering over his hair. He would come back. He told himself he would again and again, because he did not want to be alone—not just in this moment or this place, but ever again. He closed his eyes for a long moment and couldn’t help but think about that look in Nicolo’s eye when we finally let go. It was so much like that look he had seen in him that last time he killed him. He had let go then too. Yusuf had him pinned to the ground, his hands around that beautiful throat and squeezing the life out of him. It had been anger, sure, but it had been a game too. But then Nicolo had stopped playing, stopped fighting. And Yusuf realized he’d only strangled him at all because he wanted to touch him. Had Nicolo stopped fighting for the same reason?

Nicolo inhaled, body twitching to life and eyes opening. Face still healing, bones still cracking back into place, but at least he had both eyes again. He looked around, confused and then memory came back and he twisted onto his side, trying to get up.

Yusuf held his shoulder to stop him. “Wait. Heal first,” he said.

Nicolo grabbed at Yusuf’s knee, his chest still across his lap, breaths labored.

Yusuf kept his hold on his arm, rubbing his thumb against his skin boldly. They had touched each other plenty over the last year, but it had not been gentle. Even when it was affectionate, it was a shove or a flick.

“They’re dead?” Nicolo choked out, even though he was staring at two of the bodies right there in the grass beside them.

“Very,” Yusuf promised. “All of them. I even found your clothes.” He meant it as a joke but regretted it when his friend tensed, remembering his own nudity, maybe?

“How did I die?” Nicolo continued to talk, even though it sounded like his jaw was still reforming.

“That one smashed your face in with a rock,” he said, still stroking his arm. He was coated in blood and dirt.

“You saw?”

Why was he asking? “Yes.”

Nicolo was so tense that Yusuf worried he was dying again. He was about to pull on Nicolo's shoulder and roll him onto his back again when he asked, “Did they do anything else to me? After I died?”

Yusuf’s thumb stopped moving against Nicolo’s arm. He remembered the man in the woods, bleeding out from his crotch. “No. I killed him.”

Nicolo relaxed, still lying over his lap, his cheek against Yusuf’s thigh and his eyes closing.

Yusuf felt a not at all unfamiliar wave of pride at how much the other man trusted him. His hand slid to Nicolo’s back, rubbing away blood and blades of grass. They stayed like that for a long while. Nicolo had fallen asleep and Yusuf wouldn’t take that from him, not while it was still midday anyway and they had plenty of time to gather their things before dark.

When Nicolo woke again it was with a jump. Yusuf took his hands off him immediately, holding them up when the Italian pushed himself out of Yusuf’s lap to look around. “Did I die again?” he asked, a little disoriented.

Yusuf shook his head. “Fell asleep.”

Nicolo scrubbed a hand over his face, shaking off blood and forcing himself to his feet. He dragged a few shaky breaths and Yusuf stood to join him. Nicolo didn’t quite look like his usual self, gaze flicking around between corpses and Yusuf’s boots. “Where are my things?” he asked, voice tight.

Yusuf caught the man’s arm when he started to walk away from the river. “Wash off. I’ll get our things and a couple of the horses.”

Nicolo frowned and shook his head. “No. I—”

“You look worse than when we got here. Rinse off. I’ll bring your things back.” He saw that Nicolo was still going to argue, still shaking his head. He had an ungrounded look in his eyes, like he was trying to get back to some normal. Normal was strange for them, most things were okay but something here had slipped past even their okay. He turned Nicolo with his hold on his arm, toward the river, taking a few steps with him and pointing toward the bend. “There’s a footbridge up there, around the bend where I was. You clean up here and I’ll get the things. We’ll go over and cross and look for a place to make camp for the night.” He kept his voice casual, like they were making plans just like they did every day.

After a beat, Nicolo’s head bobbing in a tired nod. Yusuf patted his back, giving him a little shove toward the water. “Don’t drown! I don’t want to go in after you,” he said, backing away. Nicolo paused, glancing back at him, eyebrow raised and face painted in blood. There was a question there, in those incredible, expressive eyes—another question Nicolo would not say out loud. “And I would,” Yusuf answered this time. “I would go in after you. I would become a spirit of this forest, haunting that river until I found you.”

Nicolo’s eyes widened a fraction, holding a world of wonder before he forced himself to look away.

Yusuf walked back through the woods, around the bodies he’d laid out. He didn’t waste time, not liking being away from Nicolo now. He had surprised himself with what he’d said. It was true, he meant it, so he could stand by saying it, but he hadn’t expected it either.

When he returned with both of their belongings and two horses, Nicolo had finished washing the blood away. Yusuf tried to press down a smile when he approached, Nicolos clothes in his arms. “You shaved,” he said. He had noticed before but hadn’t had the chance to appreciate it.

Nicolo looked surprised. Maybe he had forgotten?

“I like it,” Yusuf decided.

Nicolo raised his brow and shot him the _“Since when do I give a shit what you like?”_ stare. It had happened enough times that Yusuf recognized it.

Nicolo took his clothes, dressing. Yusuf waited until they were walking through the woods, horses behind them, following the river toward the bridge, to ask, “Did they do anything before you died?” It was a whisper in the woods that they could pretend had never been at all if Nicolo didn’t answer.

Nicolo took a deep breath and shook his head.

Yusuf considered dropping it. A part of him wanted to, but he knew if he dropped it now, it would never come up again. And never was a very long time for them. Perhaps that was for the best? But Nicolo could be so quiet sometimes, even when his head was obviously full of thoughts.

They walked a while more in silence. Yusuf debating whether or not to pry. Finally he decided, because it was just the two of them forever now. Because if Nicolo did not speak to him, he may speak to no one ever. Yusuf had thought the Italian was a mute that first month after their first death, when all they did was kill each other in the desert again and again.

“Did you cut that man’s dick off?” Yusuf asked bluntly, thinking about the first one he’d found, the one slowly bleeding out.

Nicolo tensed, almost missing a step. He blinked those blue eyes, first at the bridge ahead and then to the side at Yusuf. Had he forgotten about it? Or did he not want to answer? Just when Yusuf was sure he wouldn’t, putting a real stop to this conversation, Nicolo pressed his shoulders back and chin up. “No. I bit it off.”

And then he crossed the bridge. It was narrow enough to force them to go one at a time, leading the horses over.

Yusuf watched him move ahead. He had known, hadn’t he? He had known when he saw the man in the grass.

He followed across the bridge and they walked for a while longer before finding a spot to make camp, tying up the horses and making a fire.

Nicolo surprised Yusuf when he started another conversation. “Did you mean what you said? About the river…”

“I always mean what I say.” Yusuf sat down near the fire with a bag of dried meat and wine from one of the horse’s packs. He had pulled everything off of them and set the rest free to roam the woods and the plains.

“You once said if you found a sink hole, you’d shove me in,” Nicolo reminded, sitting beside him and uncorking the wine.

Yusuf laughed. “I meant it when I said it.”

“And now?”

“Now? I would follow you into a sink hole if you fell into one.”

“What changed?”

Yusuf glanced at Nicolo. He tipped his head back to take a drink, his throat long and beautiful. Yusuf had cut it open more than once. “Nothing.”

Nicolo stared back, surprised.

“Why did you stop fighting that time I was strangling you?”

Nicolo’s eyes widened, his back straightened and he looked away, hiding the thoughts in those eyes again?

“Why did you stop killing me after that?” the Italian countered rather than answered.

Had he meant to end the conversation? To ask a question Yusuf would hesitate to answer? He did not hesitate. “It was the first time I was afraid you would not wake.” He was not interested in wasting time, despite the possibility of having so much of it. “I killed you many times but that time…that time I wondered if it would be your last. If you would really die and it would be by my hand.”

“Wasn’t that the goal?”

“In the beginning. But not then. I took your life for granted then.”

Nicolo passed him the wine and they sat for a while in the quiet. It was summer, no where near cold out, but the fire was comforting in the growing dark. Yusuf leaned back against a large tree, his sword on his left and Nicolo sitting on his right. He let his eyes close.

“I didn’t want to fight you anymore,” Nicolo said quietly.

Yusuf opened his eyes. The other man was still watching the fire, sitting beside him, so close that their legs touched.

“I didn’t want to fight you,” he repeated. “I just wanted to feel you.” It was so quiet that if he wasn’t listening he might have easily missed the words and he wasn’t sure Nicolo would repeat them if he’d asked—not this decade anyway.

Yusuf reached out, grabbed Nicolo’s upper arm and pulled him back until he laid down, his back to Yusuf’s chest when he turned on his side. He moved his sword, laying it in front of Nicolo, easy to grab if he had to, his arm curled around Nicolo’s waist. Nicolo sighed, relaxing, and Yusuf smiled against the back of his neck.


	2. Rocking the Boat

Nicolo woke, on his side, back leaned into the warmth of Yusuf’s chest. The arm around him squeezed lightly. Yusuf wasn’t awake yet, not fully, but he had squeezed like a part of him knew Nicolo was.

He laid there for another minute, looking at the other man’s arm around him, the silver rings on two of his fingers. Nicolo had hunted down a man who stole those off of Yusuf’s corpse on a battle field half a year ago. He had grinned, blood-soaked, and presented them to Yusuf with mock chivalry. Yusuf had sworn but smiled back and took them with a tip of his head.

Would time give them endless memories like that? Every object, every smile, every gesture laced with a story or a dozen or a hundred? Nicolo wanted that more than he’d wanted anything since he died. He wanted it enough that it scared him.

* * *

They were getting ready to break camp and move along when Nicolo suddenly broke the morning quiet to say, “I am not weak.”

Yusuf grinned, full of cunning and knowing. “Oh, I have learned that better than anyone.” He joked that he could not remember the number of times Nicolo had killed him, but in reality he had every single one memorized.

“Back there…”

Yusuf’s smile turned sharply into a snarl when he realized Nicolo was still thinking about the men at the river. “You have died many times, my friend. That was no different. Although being naked and bloody does suit you.” He tried to add a joke, or a compliment however it could be taken but couldn’t make himself smile for it. He didn’t like the way this death pulled at Nicolo.

Nicolo stared off in the direction of the river, like he could see through the trees and across the land back to that spot—a spot now likely home to scavengers picking apart corpses. He took a deep breath and then let it out, shoulders dropping when he turned away from it and started gathering up their things.

Yusuf caught his wrist and his gaze. “Nic—” he began, ready to offer to talk about it if he wanted, or to go back and look at the rot if it would make him feel better.

Nicolo looked back at him with those clear blue eyes, the haunting gone from them and the small quirk of a smile in the corner of his mouth. “I did not need you to show up,” he insisted.

Yusuf let go of his wrist, for the first time wondering if he was overstepping, but Nicolo caught his hand before he could drop it back to his side, fingers pressing into his skin and those eyes still looking back at him. “But I am glad you did.”

Yusuf smiled a little and winked.

Nicolo smiled wider, surprised, and then let go of his hand to go back to work, collecting their things and meticulously placing them into the packs on the horses. Yusuf realized that their things were no longer separated, no longer his belonging on one horse and Nicolo’s on the other. He liked that very much.

Nicolo put on his belt and his sword. “Where are we going?” he asked, like it didn’t matter.

Yusuf watched him for another second before getting himself ready to move too. “Toward the coast? We could take to sailing,” he suggested, half-joking.

Nicolo huffed thoughtfully, not entirely hating the idea.

* * *

He came to hate the idea four months later when they were working on a cargo vessel attacked by pirates. Nicolo had insisted on getting as much of the crew as they could, mostly younger men, barely more than boys, onto the lifeboat and into the water before figuring out how to save themselves. Between the storm and the attacking ship and crew, there was no staying onboard. They only managed to get away because of the storm and a lot of luck in a very unlucky situation. In the water, bobbing around with debris and bodies in the dying light of day, Nicolo spotted an empty rowboat. He grabbed Yusuf who was still reviving from a gunshot wound to the chest and swam him to it. It looked so close but it took so long to reach, the waves pushing them down again and again until Nicolo was sure he’d drown and if he died, he’d lose his grip on Yusuf.

But he reached the rowboat and managed to hang on to it and his friend until Yusuf woke from death, gasping for air against the waves. “In!” Nicolo demanded and Yusuf grabbed onto the boat, managed to get in first and then drag Nicolo over the edge after him. The rain came down in sheets, threatening to fill the vessel. Yusuf ignored the rain while Nicolo stretched out, gasping up swallows of air while his body ached in exhaustion. “What are you doing?” he shouted over the storm, noticing Yusuf’s ass in the air, his body bent over the side. Was he barfing? He’d had such a good stomach for oceans until now. But then he flung a crate of something into the boat, almost smacking Nicolo with it before going back to fishing supplies out of the sea, grabbing at debris.

The boat rocked in the storm, the sea turning black when the last rays of sunlight finally drained from the sky. Nicolo scrambled across the boat and grabbed hold of Yusuf by the belt, hooking his fingers in and sitting again. Either he’d keep him from falling out or he’d at least guarantee that he’d go with him.

The night was long and Nicolo forgot most of it by the time he woke, the sea finally still and the sky cloudy but bright. He woke, lying in the bottom of the boat, on his side facing Yusuf who slept on his side too. He couldn’t help but think of that morning months ago in the woods, when he woke with his back against the other man’s chest. They had not been able to sleep like that on the ship.

Yusuf smiled, eyes still shut, but awake and annoyingly aware that Nicolo was staring. They’d made a habit of glimpsing each other. Taking secret looks. And Yusuf winked sometimes. It sent a fluttering through Nicolo’s chest he’d never imagined he could feel before.

“You know, I wanted to be alone with you,” Yusuf admitted, eyes still closed. “But I did not mean for the ship to sink.”

Nicolo laughed. “Not sure it sank. Might have just been taken by pirates.”

“Same difference,” Yusuf argued. His lids lifted, those dark eyes staring back at Nicolo. It was almost unbearable. The Italian almost looked away. He was damp and uncomfortable and sore, lying in a puddle of seawater, but he didn’t want to move—didn’t want to look away—not just yet.

Yusuf moved slowly, arm uncurling from Nicolo’s waist, fingertips following his arm to his hand where he brushed the fingers Nicolo still had hooked into Yusuf’s belt. Nicolo started, letting go and sitting up, but not before catching that beautiful _caught you_ grin on his friend’s face. Nicolo sat up on one of the benches and looked around at the sea.

Yusuf sat on the bench opposite him, both taking in the endless horizon in all directions with growing smirks. Nicolo nodded. “Well.”

“We’re fucked,” Yusuf agreed and then laughed. “So, who eats who first?”

Nicolo looked at him before he could stop himself, eyes widening a fraction before he could school his features. No one got reactions out of him but Yusuf.

The man winked.

“Not sure cannibalism would work in our cases but if you want to offer up your skin first…”

Yusuf reached behind himself and pulled out a bottle of wine as if by magic. Nicolo recalled him pulling supplies into the boat last night and sighed a breath of relief when he uncorked it. “Not what I meant,” he said, holding out the bottle to Nicolo before even taking a sip for himself.

Nicolo took the bottle, blinking before blushing and looking away. He took a drink. “The current should bring us toward that chain of islands we passed the other day,” he changed the topic.

Yusuf nodded, obliging him. “Slow ride.” He stood and stretched, turning to dig around in the supplies. They spent the next hour making a half tent in one corner, ducking in to hide from the sun by the time it was high in the sky. They laid there together, finishing that bottle of wine.

“Have we died from exposure before?” Nicolo mused.

Yusuf pondered it. “I did. That time you ran me through and stole my horse in the middle of the desert.”

Nicolo hummed, nodding. “You did take particularly long to catch up to me that time.”

Yusuf elbowed him in the ribs and Nicolo laughed.

“So. We just drift and see how many times the sun can kill us?”

Yusuf nodded. “We’ve never starved to death before.”

“Came pretty close though.”

Yusuf shrugged and thumped their boots together where their legs stuck out from their shadowed cover, their only view. “It’s a common trade route. We’ll be picked up or we’ll come close to an island.”

“Could just end up stranded on an island,” Nicolo pointed out. He would sound pessimistic to anyone that didn’t know him. This was a game they had played many times, running down the possibilities and considering all the challenges they might overcome.

Yusuf nodded. “I’ll let you name it.”

“How generous,” Nicolo said, looking at his friend in mock awe.

Yusuf preened and took the bottle.

* * *

For the next three days they napped in the shade while the sun was up and woke at night to look at the stars and argue theology and philosophy in languages they struggled to master. Nicolo was teaching Yusuf French now that he had Italian under his belt and Yusuf was teaching Nicolo English now that he had Arabic. They also rationed the food and wine to prolong their starvation.

They sat in the middle of the boat, facing each other, each with their back to a side and legs in the center. They had put their boots aside on the first day, clothing rotating between wet, damp, and bone dry depending on the time of day.

Yusuf told a story of his childhood that had Nicolo in hysterics, laughing so hard he thought he might actually die, arm curling around his empty stomach and tears in his eyes, head back against the edge of the boat and rolling a little side to side.

The moonlight made him glow and even worn thin, half-starved with circles under his eyes, he was beautiful. He laughed loud, for all the sea to hear.

Yusuf pushed off his side of the boat and rolled up onto his knees in the middle, one leg between Nicolo’s. The Italian was still convulsing in the last waves of his laughter when Yusuf leaned forward, over him, bracing one hand to the edge of the boat near his head and leaning down. He kissed Nicolo for the first time, drinking up the end of his mirth and shivering at the way his breath hitched in surprise, his body stilling, his fingers tentative touching Yusuf’s sides through the thin material of his shirt.

The kiss deepened, both men tasting salt on the others lips and wine on their tongue. Yusuf slid his free hand up Nicolo’s throat, tipping his head back farther, thumb stroking his pulse. Nicolo’s hands twisted in the material of his shirt against his ribs. Yusuf had been thinking about kissing this man for months, maybe longer, maybe before they got on that ship, maybe before the river. When they worked different shifts on the ship and Yusuf slept while Nicolo was on deck, he dreamed of him, of what he was doing, like even that small distance between them had been too much.

Yusuf slid his hips closer, his knee pressed up between Nicolo’s legs and his own semi-hard sex pressing down against one of Nicolo’s thigh.

Nicolo’s breath stuttered, his hands spasming in the sides of Yusuf’s shirt.

And then something changed.

Nicolo went still. Not languid, but tense. His kiss had become submissive, obliging but not active, and his hands weren’t move, just hanging on to Yusuf’s shirt.

Yusuf broke the kiss, one hand still bracing the side of Nicolo’s neck, thumb stroking his jaw. His pulse was flying but he stayed so still. Yusuf looked down at him, Nicolo’s eyes were closed, breath quick but held tight in his chest like he meant to hide it. Yusuf was about to laugh, about to ask what the fuck he was doing, but then he recognized this. He _knew_ Nicolo. Knew him like no one had ever known anyone before. And this was how he looked when he was bracing himself, when he could not escape something and would not fight it.

Yusuf jerked back, landing in his spot on the other side of the boat. It rocked and Nicolo’s eyes flung open, blue made bright by the moon and staring back at him.

“I am sorry,” Yusuf said quickly, clearly, shaking his head once and marveling at how he could have been so mistaken. “I thought…” He shook his head again. He had thought they were on the same page, that there was heat in the looks they exchanged, that Nicolo’s blush at his innuendos and winks had been…what? Flirtatious? His mind reeled, re-examining the shifts in their relationship. Nicolo had wanted contact but what if that was just a desire for platonic affection? They were immortal after all. They were all each other really had. Had he just taken advantage of that? And would Nicolo really have just let him?

Nicolo was still watching him, something unreadable in his eyes again.

Yusuf dragged a deep breath and scrubbed a hand over his face, swearing. “Were you really going to just let me…have you?”

Nicolo visibly straightened. “Yes,” he said quietly, without hesitation.

Yusuf looked away for a second, only a second before forcing himself to stare back at his friend again. This was important. He couldn’t risk missing any of the Italian’s expressions. Nicolo was careful with words but there were things he couldn’t hide as easily. “Why, Nicolo?”

Nicolo’s brow pinched, almost annoyed now. “Because I want you.”

Yusuf swallowed back a groan, those words sending a shudder through him that he had to push aside. “What does that mean?” he pressed in Italian, he tried to speak gently. He didn’t want this to be an argument. It should not be an argument because he wasn’t going to try to negotiate. He just needed to understand. But Nicolo was frowning, looking confused. He would storm off right now if they weren’t in a rowboat in the middle of the ocean. “You want me to stay with you?” Yusuf prompted.

“Yes,” Nicolo nodded.

Yusuf clenched his teeth to keep from flinching. It was what he wanted too, to stay together, but he didn’t want Nicolo thinking he had to do anything to make that happen. “You have that. Now and forever.”

Nicolo stared, eyes a fraction wider for a second there. Forever was a very real promise now.

The quiet clung to them, Nicolo still waiting. He had not sighed in relief the way Yusuf expected. He had not looked away yet either. He was still waiting, as though willing Yusuf to understand something else. Nicolo could talk for hours about battles and debates but he had no words for his own feelings. Instead, he had those eyes, screaming at Yusuf with shards of starlight.

“Did you want me to kiss you?” Yusuf asked, half-terrified of the answer but at least once it was said there would be no misunderstanding.

“Yes,” Nicolo said, no hesitation.

Yusuf stared back at him. He wasn’t lying. He _wouldn’t_ and even if he tried, Yusuf would know it. “Do you want my body?”

Those eyes flared again and Nicolo nodded tightly, swallowing hard.

Yusuf shivered, identifying what he was looking at in Nicolo’s eyes. Want and fear.

Yusuf licked his lips and his heart quickened when Nicolo’s gaze darted to his mouth, watching. He wanted to close that space between them again, but that wariness in Nicolo’s eyes kept him where he was. Instead, he lifted his arms and rested them along the edge of the boat behind him, nudging his chin toward Nicolo. “Touch me.”

Nicolo’s eyes widened, meeting his gaze again. For a second they both just sat there, still, the boat bobbing in the sea, and then Nicolo slid elegantly up to his knees and came closer. He was straddling one of Yusuf’s thighs but not touching him, looking down at him with his pulse jumping in his throat again. His blue eyes darted from Yusuf’s face to his crotch, his jaw jumping tensely.

He reached out for Yusuf’s belt, fingers brushing the buckle just before Yusuf caught his hand and pulled it away. Those blue eyes shot up to his again, surprised, confused, and a little frustrated. It occurred to him then that Nicolo either had no idea what he was doing, or had all the wrong ideas. He brought his hand up to his face but never broke eye contact when he leaned in and kissed his palm. Nicolo inhaled sharply.

“Not like you think I want,” Yusuf explained, thumb stroking the back of Nicolo’s hand before letting it go. “Do what you want.”

Nicolo stared at him for another few seconds, like this was all some sort of trap or joke waiting to be sprung. Yusuf stared back, waiting for him to realize it wasn’t.

Nicolo’s gaze slid down from Yusuf’s, his shoulders relaxing slowly when he freely looked him over. His fingers ghosted over his collar and then gently touched the worn fabric of his shirt, twisting his fingers in it thoughtfully. Yusuf watched him, studying him. His expression lightened when he relaxed, wonder in those eyes that swelled Yusuf’s chest with pride. His lifted his arms when Nicolo carefully pulled his shirt up his chest, letting him strip it off and set it aside.

Nicolo nibbled his lip when he looked at him again, eyes searching every inch of his skin as though finally mapping him. His fingers twitched and Yusuf waited, holding his breath, until he finally slid his hand forward and touched his skin, tracing thin muscles and ribs. His second hand joined, slowly feeling his way up Yusuf’s sides, over his chest, across his shoulders. He leaned closer, hips rolling forward, pressing himself against Yusuf’s upper thigh.

Yusuf swallowed hard, fighting the impulse to roll his hips up against Nicolo.

Nicolo’s breath quickened, his hand sliding around Yusuf’s neck and from the glimmer in his eye, he seemed to remember a time he’d wrapped both hands around that throat to throttle him. That had been a lifetime ago. Nicolo licked his lips, body leaning closer before drawing back a fraction, gaze cutting up to meet Yusuf’s again. He flushed a little, maybe realizing that the other man had been watching him the whole time? “May I…” he started, too breathless to get it all out.

Yusuf shivered. He wanted to hear him say it, but he didn’t need him to. “Anything, Nicolo. Do anything. Take anything.”

Nicolo bit back a moan but Yusuf heard it, felt it running right down his own spine. He leaned in and ducked his head into the curve of Yusuf’s throat and Yusuf gasped, dropping his head back to stare up at the stars and revel in the feel of that exploring mouth against his skin, teeth and tongue and lips. He groaned when Nicolo straddle his waist and sat down, rubbing against him. He could feel him through his pants, just as hard as he was.

Yusuf moved his arms slowly, uncurling them from the side of the boat to wrap them around Nicolo, to slide his hands under the other man’s shirt and feel the muscles in his back when he rocked and arched against him. He froze, fingertips pressing against his skin, when Nicolo released Yusuf’s throat and lifted his head. His hips kept moving, like he didn’t realize they were to start with, his blue eyes dark and hazy with want and staring down at Yusuf with a backdrop of stars behind him. He knew then, that no matter how long he lived, or how many times he was blessed by this man, he would never forget this vision.

Nicolo held his gaze even when one of his hands slid down between them, finally pulling open Yusuf’s belt and the front of his pants. His eyes widened and glazed over when he touched Yusuf, breath hitching as though it was his own cock being stroked.

Yusuf moaned and rolled his hips, reaching down to hook fingers into the front of Nicolo’s pants. He groaned, looking down at that hand moving on his sex. “Nic—” he started to ask, breath catching in his throat

“Anything,” Nicolo whispered.

Yusuf almost lost himself right there but hung on, determined not to finish before he’d even gotten his hand around Nicolo. He drank in the other man’s moans when he did touch him, looking up again so as not to miss a moment of his expressions. They rocked against each other, touching each other, moaning unabashed with no one in the world to hear them.

Yusuf came first and Nicolo followed fast, as if it had tipped him over, body hunching forward and shaking against Yusuf’s. “Fuck…” the Italain ground out, swallowing hard and finally sitting back on Yusuf’s legs.

When Nicolo looked up at him again, Yusuf stared back and lifted his hand, the one cupping Nicolo’s cum. Nicolo began to blush but it flared when Yusuf licked some of that fluid from his wrist.

Nicolo’s eyes almost burst from his head, reaching out with his clean hand to grab at Yusuf’s wrist. “That’s dirty!” he blurted.

Yusuf grinned and leaned forward again, sticking his tongue out far to lick up more of the cum in his hand.

Nicolo shivered and let go, sitting back and watching him.

“Nico,” Yusuf began, casual as though thinking aloud—as though they weren’t both half naked and he wasn’t cleaning the other man’s seed from his hand between words. “Are you a virgin?”

Nicolo frowned but didn’t go back to his side of the boat, still sitting on Yusuf’s thighs.

Yusuf didn’t need him to answer. He finished cleaning his hand and then looked at Nicolo, considering him. He reached out for the hand Nicolo was still holding in front of himself, the one Yusuf had spilled into. The one that had brought him pleasure.

Nicolo jerked the hand out of his reach in a rush of panic, like something was about to be snatched from him and before Yusuf could even imagine he would—he licked his palm clean, eating it almost stubbornly. Yusuf stared, groaning in his throat.

He reached out and gently pulled up Nicolo’s pants instead before tucking himself back into his. “Why were you afraid?” he asked quietly.

Nicolo started. “I wasn’t,” he insisted, like they were about to argue about it.

Yusuf laughed, leaning back again and watching the man on his lap. “There’s no one else here! You don’t have to defend your honor or your pride.”

Nicolo raised a curious eyebrow at that. “Who else’s opinion of my honor or pride would I care about?”

Yusuf stared. Nicolo hadn’t meant to charm him with that. He’d said it because he meant it. He leaned up and kissed him soundly, stroking his cheek and letting it linger before laying back down against the boat. Yusuf sighed. “There is nothing you can say that would tarnish your honor in my eyes.”

Nicolo stared down at him, the sky above. The ocean was so quiet tonight. The whole world gone. “I’ve met men like the ones at the river before,” he spoke softly, as if not to conjure them. “I have seen what they do and I have had others try to take me.” He forced a laugh, breathy and thin. “Though that was the first time any managed to kill me.”

Yusuf stayed still, listening carefully, his hand on Nicolo’s thigh and thumb rubbing circles. When the quiet stretched he asked, because he might need to know if they were going to go beyond handjobs. “Have you ever been raped Nicolo?” He hated it. He hated asking it. But he forced his voice to stay even. They had both been tortured and died horrible deaths. They had talked about that, they could talk about this. There was nothing about Nicolo he did not want to know.

Nicolo started a little and shook his head. Yusuf studied him, not sure if he believed him until he spoke. “No. I’m somewhat deadly, you know?”

Yusuf laughed shortly and nodded, squeezing Nicolo’s thighs. “That you are. _Somewhat_.”

Nicolo shrugged, a little lighter now. Maybe he’d needed to talk about this as much as Yusuf had needed to know. “I guess I just assumed that would be…” he hesitated and then shrugged, giving up on finding the right words. “What it is like.”

Yusuf wanted to laugh, shake his head and tell him how stupid he had been, but then he remembered how Nicolo had been ready to let him have him anyway, even when he thought it would be violent and one-sided. “I love you.”

Nicolo stared at him.

“I mean what I say,” Yusuf reminded. “And I would rather die than hurt you or see you hurt.”

Nicolo forced a laugh, but a real smile lingered. He leaned forward and laid against Yusuf’s chest. “You die all the time.”

Yusuf let himself touch Nicolo’s hair. He had always wanted to but resisted. “Does it mean less?” he asked.

Nicolo had his ear pressed over Yusuf’s heart, his eyes closing. “No. It means more.”

The silence stretched and he felt Nicolo drifting toward sleep, his breathing evening out, his body relaxing. “I love you,” the Italian whispered against his skin, listening to his heartbeat.

Yusuf smiled and leaned his face into his hair, kissing his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am running on inspiration right now. Hope you enjoy this!


	3. Trusting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is LONG. I could have chopped it in two, but why do that to you when I have it all right now?
> 
> PS. Things get steamy!

Nicolo stood and stretched, leaning over to peek down at the deep blue below. He peeled off his shirt. His pants were already sagging, hipbones jutting out and ribs more visible than ever before. Joe wasn’t much better, both of them slowly starving. It had been weeks, time harder to keep track of. But their food had been gone for what felt like a week now and the wine too a couple of days ago at least.

Yusuf sat up straighter, watching him. They weren’t hiding under the tarp today because the sky was cloudy. “What are you doing?”

Nicolo tossed his shirt aside and started to unbuckle his belt, hating how tired just that made him. “Going for a swim.”

Yusuf grabbed his leg.

Nicolo twisted around to look back and down at him, surprised, and even more so when he took in that expression. Yusuf was completely serious when he said, “Don’t.”

Nicolo turned slowly around to face him, still looking down as he stood over him in the little boat. “I want to stretch.”

The clouds rumbled far on the horizon. Another storm? Would it reach them? They could use the water.

Yusuf reached up to catch his hand, pulling him down slowly until Nicolo sat in his lap. They did that now, sitting close, touching. Nicolo had spent a whole night touching Yusuf’s hair while his head on his thigh and making him teach him songs. “No more swimming, Nico,” Yusuf said gently, sounding tired. “Please.”

“Why? You know I can swim. I swam the other day.”

“That was a week ago.”

“No, it wasn’t.”

Yusuf raised an eyebrow, challenging him to prove otherwise, perhaps?

“What does it matter?” Nicolo pressed instead.

Yusuf slid his hands up from where he’d settled them on Nicolo’s thighs to his ribs. His fingers settled between the bones. “You could drown and I could lose you.”

Nicolo considered that, looking past Yusuf’s shoulder to the rolling sea and that far off storm. It was getting closer. “Is it time to eat each other?” he asked casually enough, remembering how Yusuf had suggested it the first day on the boat.

The man under him laughed, drawing his attention away from the darker clouds and sheets of rain.

“You really did not understand that joke, did you?”

“What? I do not think cannibalism will work. We are both immortal and—”

Yusuf laughed so hard he wheezed at the end. They really were a mess. He shook his head. “You do not understand.”

Nicolo scowled. He did not like not knowing things. He had absorbed all of the stories and books he could get his hands on before going to war and memorized everything taught to him by word of mouth since. “Explain it,” he demanded.

Yusuf looked up, brown eyes bright with mischief. “Oh, I would rather show you, but I fear we are both too dead for that.”

Nicolo frowned. They were too dead for most things.

Yusuf relented with a smile and crooked his fingers, beckoning his friend closer as though there was anyone out here to overhear them. Nicolo did not point it out, even wasting away, he still loved the opportunity to lean in, offering his ear to Yusuf and trying not to shudder at the feel of his breath against his skin. Yusuf’s hands were still holding his sides, thumbs stroking gently. He whispered, husky voiced as the air around them picked up with the nearing storm. “When I say I am going to eat you, I mean I am going to take you in my mouth and suck until you finish.”

Nicolo swallowed hard, glad that he was leaned close and Yusuf could not see his expression. He no doubt looked shocked. Hopefully he was too starved to blush. He was definitely too starved for anything even remotely close to the ideas Yusuf was putting in his head.

When he recovered his composure, he sat upright and swatted Yusuf’s arm. “How do you know all these things?”

“I have lived a much more interesting life than you.” His immortal friend grinned, lips cracked and beard an overgrown mess, a mirror to his own sunken cheeks and scraggly beard. They would probably die soon. They could prolong it a little longer with that rainfall.

The wind moved across the sea, rocking the boat. Yusuf twisted to look back, squinting at the storm.

They stayed like that, drifting, until the sheets of rain reached them, deafening against the roaring ocean. And they stayed a while longer, tangled around each other, heads back and mouths open for the rain. Eventually they had to settle into the bottom of the boat as it rolled on the waves, each one threatening to spill them out into the sea and already Nicolo was exhausted. Yusuf had been right. If he had swam he would have drowned even in the still waters.

Decided, he used the last of his strength that night to unbuckle his belt and loop it through the other man’s. Yusuf looked down curiously to see what he was doing and then grinned when he saw, nodding his approval and wrapping his arms around him. If the ocean saw fit to drown them—to spill them from their little boat—then they would go together. No wave would tear them apart.

They were drifting, mostly dead, maybe two days later when the shadow of another ship fell upon them. Neither man able to stand or even wave, but they were fished out of their boat all the same.

* * *

Yusuf woke with a start on the big ship, tucked away on a cot and his very first thought—his terror—was knowing that he was alone. There was no second body wedged onto that cot beside him, no belt buckled around his. He had loved that gesture. His Nicolo was secretly romantic, he knew it.

He forced himself to sit up, blinking around at the dim room again and again, willing his vision to clear and focus. “Nico?” he coughed up the name, swinging his legs over the edge of the cot.

A hand pressed at his shoulder, trying to push him back down and he swatted it away. “Nicolo!”

Someone groaned overhead and he realized he was in a bunk.

Nicolo leaned over to blink down at him. “Here.”

Yusuf flopped back, only trying to keep his eyes open at all to see that face. He already looked better than he had on the rowboat.

The older man that had pushed him back into bed was talking, shuffling about the little room as the whole ship swayed.

Nicolo rolled back onto his bunk, out of sight but just above him. “Don’t know what he’s saying but he has food and water, so I figure we’ll just go with it for now.”

Yusuf grinned, eyes closing. He understood the older man. He was talking about how they had been found, it was a miracle, and only twelve hours later they were already looking better. They would be in port in two days and could stay in bed until then. “What if he wants to make slaves of us?” he asked his Nicolo just to hear his reaction.

A grunt came from the cot above. “For work or sex?” he asked, monotone exhaustion.

Yusuf clung to the waking world just for this conversation. “Definitely sex.”

Another grunt, this one sounded like Nicolo was smirking. “Well, you’re the one that wanted to eat somebody. Hop to it.”

Yusuf laughed so hard that he coughed and groaned. The old man turned back to shoot them a glare, pointing and advising that they rest.

Nicolo, who understood no words but didn’t seem worried anyway, snorted. “Put a smile on his face, Yusuf. But go easy, he’s old.”

Yusuf laughed again, kicking the cot above his.

They both slept long hours. Waking periodically to check that the other was still there, drink their fill of water and small mouthfuls of food before falling asleep again. Yusuf woke sharply days later to the sounds of voices and birds and the echo of those dreams.

He sat up, found his boots beside the cot and pulled them on. He already knew Nicolo wasn’t in the room, even without looking in on the top bunk. He could tell, like an absence of something vital. From the ruckus overhead, it sounded like they’d come into port—wherever they were.

He heard Nicolo’s voice somewhere above deck and followed it out of the ship.

Nicolo was still scruffy and had tied his long hair back from his face messily. “Yusuf!” he called when he saw him, waving him over. As it turned out, one of the young sailors they had saved from the last ship was the captain’s nephew. The lifeboat they’d managed to get off the ship before escaping themselves had made it to safety a week ago. The young man was at port too, planning to join his uncle’s ship, and almost wept at the sight of them.

The ship had made port in Athena. Which was a blessing all its own. They had a cache of belongings hidden in a cottage outside of Corinth, including their weapons—the ones they had once used to kill each other with.

The Captain and his nephew insisted on not letting them leave empty handed, rewarding them with enough coin to clean up and rest in Athena a few nights before heading out for “home” as they had put it.

Yusuf had enjoyed many baths in his life, but that had to have been one of his best.

They had found a nice hotel with a bathhouse downstairs. They had soaked for what felt like hours after cleaning the sweat and filth from their skin and hair.

Nicolo shaved, cutting away the beard that had grown until his face was smooth again. He stood in the mirror a while longer, tugging once or twice at his hair before seeming to decide to leave it grown out. He caught Yusuf watching. “I can pull it back like this,” he explained in Arabic, like Yusuf had a say in how he cut it.

Nicolo turned, still holding his knew knife, the one he’d used to shave. He waggled it thoughtfully in Yusuf’s direction.

Yusuf laughed and shook his head. “No.”

“Not your beard, your hair. Do you want me to cut it or no?” Nicolo asked.

Yusuf’s heart beat a little faster, surprising himself. The last time Nicolo had flicked a knife at him like that, it was on a battlefield when they had managed to disarm each other of swords and had to finish the fight with knives. Nicolo had won that day—or lost, depending on how Nicolo may or may not feel about it now.

Nicolo must have noticed because he stopped bouncing the knife and straightened, lowering it to his side and losing his smile. He looked away, jaw ticking the way it did when he tensed. He turned away, grabbing a cloth to wipe the blade dry. “We should order food up to the room. I don’t think I’m going to get up for a couple days once I go to bed,” he said, quietly trying to change the subject.

Yusuf got out of the tub he’d been soaking in, splashing water onto the always wet tile floor. “Food is a good idea,” he agreed, sitting down on one of the stools in front of the mirrors. “Don’t cut it too short.”

Nicolo met his gaze in the mirror, surprised. And then he moved closer. He reached up with the hand not holding a knife to card fingers through the back of Yusuf’s recently cleaned and still wet curls. “I wouldn’t hurt you,” he said quietly. “But if you’re not comfortable with it, I understand. I have hurt you many times before.”

Yusuf sighed with a smile, head leaning back into his touch. They were naked in a mostly empty bath house but not at all in private. Still, Nicolo managed to make him feel like there was no one else in the world—like they were still on that boat all alone. “I have hurt you too. We are past that, my friend. I trust you.” He saw the visible shudder that went through Nicolo at those words, his eyes opening a little wider, like he hadn’t known. How could he not have known?

Nicolo looked away, as if realizing he was showing too much of himself. He cut Yusuf’s hair. He was no barber but he was good with a knife. When he was done, he grabbed a bucket of water and enjoyed dumping it over Yusuf a little too much.

When they were finished, they borrowed robes from the hotel, left their ruined clothing to be thrown out, ordered too much food, and went upstairs.

They had new clothes piled on one of the chairs in their room. They’d had the sense to go through the marketplace while they still looked like death walking, unnerving everyone they haggled with and definitely not giving anyone the idea that they had anything worth stealing until they had spent most of it.

Yusuf also thought it had been smart, because, if things went as he hoped, he had no intention of either of them leaving this room for the next few days.

* * *

As soon as they were in their room, alone, Nicolo rounded on Yusuf, drank in the surprise in his eyes, and kissed him. It had been days, maybe a week, maybe longer since he kissed him, and he was sick of missing being stranded in a rowboat.

Yusuf was stunned a second too long and Nicolo leaned back, staring at him, a little breathless. “Are things different here?” he asked quietly, unsure but prepared for whatever truth he received. Maybe this kind of thing was only okay when they were dying? When they were stranded? It would hurt to know, but he was sure he could wait for the next drawn out death to kiss Yusuf if he had to. _If he had to._

But Yusuf’s smile told him that wasn’t the case even before he kissed Nicolo. It grew hungry fast, hands pulling at those thin robs separating them to wander clean skin, plush again after escaping death, muscle instead of bones beneath.

Nicolo growled, confused, when Yusuf broke their kiss, sliding from his hold, but then he was on his knees in front of him. Nicolo stared confused until Yusuf pushed the silk of his robe aside and kissed his hipbone, looking up at him when he moved his kisses closer and closer to Nicolo’s sex.

His breath caught in his throat, eyes wide, some part of his brain screaming at him that this could not be how—and then Yusuf was taking him into his mouth and his thoughts groaned to a halt with a guttural sound in his chest, his arms curling in the air at his sides with no idea where the fuck to put them but damn it, this was amazing. Nicolo watched, and heard, and felt Yusuf sucking him, almost losing himself and his sanity when he swallowed around him. He swore, or maybe he prayed, he couldn’t hear himself.

Yusuf’s hands gripped his hips, and Nicolo grabbed at those hands, at something. “Yusuf…” he moaned, gasping when Yusuf released him, his cock still hard by now coated in saliva and aching.

Nicolo felt a mix of frustration, want, and relief. He had no idea what he was doing. He dragged a few breaths, mesmerized by the other man’s mouth when he stood up again, his lips swollen and wet. “I thought you were going to ‘suck until I finish’ he paraphrased.”

Yusuf smiled and Nicolo knew he had given away the fact that he remembered that conversation word for word. Fine. He would give away just about anything to Yusuf now. “Oh, I will, next time,” he promised and then nudged Nicolo toward the bed, tugging his robe off his shoulders on the way.

Nicolo’s heart sank a little, desire flagging, but he didn’t let himself hesitate. This was a part of being lovers, right? Nicolo was no coward, he had just invested certain degree of effort into not ending up in this position. But Yusuf was no stranger or fellow soldier trying to break him or use him. He was…Yusuf. He was Nicolo’s Yusuf. Nicolo could do anything for him. He had died, for fuck’s sake, he could certainly do this.

* * *

Nicolo crawled onto the bed, breath a little fast, and bent forward to lay his temple to the clean sheets, one eye looking back at Yusuf over his own naked shoulder, waiting, jaw clenched but in the most exposed and indefensible position. Yusuf bit the inside of his cheek to keep from moaning or cringing, for a moment frozen by the mix of feelings. Yes, it was erotic. Yes, one day he would want to see him like that. But the look in his eye wasn’t right, and neither was the tight press of his jaw. When they did eventually have sex that way, Nicolo would be hard and eager.

Yusuf climbed onto the bed, hating the way Nicolo closed his eyes. He touched his hip, down his thigh, feeling muscles jump. He bent and kissed Nicolo’s spine before lifting and turning him to push him back onto the pillows. Those blue eyes were open again, surprised and confused and again, wonderfully, frustrated. As if screaming, _“what the hell else do you want?”_ at him. And Yusuf gave him a half smirk, thinking, _“everything.”_

They kissed and tangled, rubbing against one another until he felt his Nicolo relax and grow hard. Yusuf rolled until he was on his back with Nicolo on top of him. “I want you,” Yusuf moaned against his lips, clutching the back of his neck. “I want you inside me.”

Nicolo started, breaking their kiss to lean back enough to see his face fully. “What?” He was breathy but Yusuf felt his sex throb against his hip, proof of his interest.

“Do you want to?” Yusuf asked, rolling his hips against Nicolo’s.

“I…” Nicolo swallowed hard, his pulse in his throat. He sat up more, touching Yusuf’s throat, down to his collar. He shook his head tightly. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Yusuf smiled. It wasn’t possible to love this man more than he already did. His Nicolo was still so sure that the act was going to hurt someone and willing to be the one hurt. “You won’t,” Yusuf promised. “I’ll show you.”

Nicolo frowned a little. He did hate not knowing things, didn’t he? So far, he had not know his Nicolo to turn his back on knowledge when it was offered to him.

Yusuf rolled his hips again, rubbing up against him, reminding him of both of their arousals—just in case Nicolo had managed to forget that. The Italain groaned, eyes fluttering shut before he nodded once. “How?”

Yusuf bit the inside of his lip to keep from grinning, feeling a little bit like a seducer. A part of him was trying to commit every second of this to memory in perfect detail—knowing that he was facing eternity and firsts would be rare. He took Nicolo’s hand and lifted it to his mouth, watching his face when he sucked two fingers into his mouth, tonguing them. He had purchased oil to use on Nicolo but this was how he wanted his first time with him. He felt Nicolo shudder watching him suck his fingers, hopefully making him think about how that same mouth had been around his cock not long ago. He felt his erection throb against his own.

When he gave Nicolo his hand back, Yusuf backed up the last stretch of the bed, to lean against pillows and headboard and spread his legs. His heart thudded in his chest, feeling wildly exposed and vulnerable, not just to physical attack but to any form of rejection. Yes, he’d had sex before, but this was Nicolo.

“Put one finger in first,” he said, waiting, wondering if Nicolo would change his mind.

Nicolo stared at him for another second, as if memorizing him, and then crawled closer. One hand touched Yusuf’s thigh, pressing gently to tip his hips higher. His wet finger touched him gently, his gaze darting back up to his face when he slowly started pressing in.

Yusuf inhaled, nerves on fire with that gaze studying him so intensely. He knew the wrong reaction would end this in a flash and do even more damage since part of this was to prove to Nicolo that it wouldn’t be one-sided. He gasped a little when Nicolo had his finger in to the knuckle but smiled lazily to make sure he didn’t misinterpret the sound. “Move it in and out,” he said when Nicolo waited.

Nicolo groaned in his chest, his hard on proof of his own enjoyment. He started sliding his fingers in and out of him, hand flexing on Yusuf’s thigh every time Yusuf moaned.

“Add another,” Yusuf told him.

Nicolo paused, gaze meeting Yusuf’s in another flicker of uncertainty. Yusuf rocked against his hand, urging him to do it. He knew this tentative, almost fear, Nicolo had about sex wouldn’t last past this night. He was going to realize it wasn’t what he’d imagined. He added a second finger, squeezing Yusuf’s inner thigh when he did and Yusuf arched a little, swallowing down his own sounds.

Nicolo’s eyes narrowed on him, hand stilling when both fingers were buried inside. “You’re hiding things,” he accused, voice low and rough with lust.

Yusuf swallowed back another moan and Nicolo started to pull back, not just his hand but his body. Yusuf caught his shoulder to keep him, meeting his gaze. “Good sounds, Nico,” he swore.

Nicolo still didn’t move, staring at him hard.

“Trust me,” Yusuf breathed and then smiled. “Or just look for yourself,” he nodded downward to his own achingly hard cock between them.

Nicolo looked and bit his lip, and then started moving his hand again, in and out. He curled his fingers inside, feeling him.

Yusuf shivered, letting him finger him for a little longer before saying, “Another.”

Nicolo groaned like he was asking too much of him, a sound that would make more sense if their roles were reversed. “That one isn’t wet,” he protested but his resolve was sounding weaker by the second.

“Spit on it,” Yusuf said.

Nicolo glared at him, but continued to slowly move his fingers inside him. “I will not,” he growled, seeming to take offense on his behalf.

“You’ve spit on me before,” he reminded.

“That was different. You had just stabbed me through the chest, and I hated you.”

“And now?” Yusuf grinned, wondering if he’d trick Nicolo into saying something sweet.

Nicolo opened his mouth to say something, seemed to realized he was being lured, and then closed his mouth again. And then he smirked. It was so infinitely subtle that anyone who hadn’t seen this man die up close, would not know it. Before Yusuf could ask why, Nicolo leaned forward and down. Down. Yusuf inhaled, almost choking himself in the effort not to yell when Nicolo put his face down close to those two fingers still inside Yusuf to suck the third.

Yusuf groaned when he felt that tongue against his skin, staring down in shock and awe when he watched his Nicolo lick and suck all the way to the head of his throbbing sex. And then Nicolo looked up at him, making eye contact when he pressed a third finger in and slowly wrapped his mouth around him.

Yusuf swore in two languages, unable to look away, thighs shaking as he tried not to lose himself. Nicolo continued to watch him, head moving slowly up and down while he fingered his ass.

If he could have thought at all, he might have marvel at the monster he had created or maybe at himself for ever thinking Nicolo would not be a quick learner.

Yusuf opened his mouth, wanting to warn him, wanting not to finish at all yet, but unable to do either. His whole body tensed and arched, eyes closing when he came. He had reached for Nicolo’s head, some half-formed thought screaming to push him back, but only ended up tangling fingers in his hair and cupping his skull.

Nicolo swallowed around him, coughing though he tried to hide it. “Do I stop now?” he asked, voice raw.

Yusuf opened his eyes in time to see Nicolo licking cum from the corner of his mouth and staring down at his fingers still inside Yusuf. He slid them out slowly and Yusuf shuddered when he was empty. He reached out and caught Nicolo’s hip. “No, you do not stop now,” he said, guiding him forward.

Nicolo moaned despite all his efforts when his erection rubbed against Yusuf’s ass. “But you’re done. I—”

“Nicolo,” Yusuf said, reaching up to touch his cheek and earn that gaze locked onto his. He pulled his face in, kissing him and tasting himself. He kissed him until Nicolo relaxed again, moaning against his mouth and rubbing his hard on against Yusuf’s inner thigh. When he broke the kiss, their forehead were still pressed together, bodies almost perfectly tangled. “We don’t leave each other behind. So, trust me, and do it.”

When Nicolo groaned it was like Yusuf could hear the last of his resolve crumbling. He reached down between them to stroke himself twice and then press himself against Yusuf’s ass. His mouth opened when he pushed forward, eyes trying to stay focused and fixed on Yusuf’s reaction.

Yusuf moaned, rolling his hips to help—to keep Nicolo from halting. It was a tight fit and with only spit it hurt a little but in a way Yusuf liked and had no intention of trying to explain to Nicolo just yet.

When they were pressed completely together they both groaned. Nicolo was leaned over him, kissing his shoulder and then biting it softly. “Can I?” he ground out in Arabic, sounding in pain.

But Yusuf knew what he was asking—thought he would always be able to tell what Nicolo was talking about with barely any words. Maybe someday he would know what he was thinking too. “Yes,” Yusuf answered in Italian.

Nicolo started with slow, shallow movements and Yusuf grunted and arched under him. They clutched at each other, stealing kisses and drinking in breaths when he started moving deeper. Yusuf fisted a hand in the back of Nicolo’s hair, deciding right then that he did like the length of it, and Nicolo thrust faster. Yusuf moaned, his own cock twitching in an attempt to return to attention, called by the mind-blowing sight of his Nicolo on the edge.

They both held their breaths when he finished and Yusuf tried to memorize the spasms of his body, like this wouldn’t be the first of thousands. Nicolo slowly slid back and then fell down on the bed beside him, still catching his breath.

“Good?” Yusuf asked. There was only one right answer.

“Good,” Nicolo agreed, blinking away the fog of his own pleasure and noticing Yusuf’s not entirely soft sex. He reached for him.

"No." Yusuf caught his wrist and brought his hand up to his face instead, kissing his palm. “Later.”

“Later?”

Yusuf hummed and kissed his wrist too.

Nicolo watched him for a little while, shifting to throw one of his legs across Yusuf’s. “We’ll switch places?” he asked softly.

Yusuf eyed him from behind his hand. “If you want.”

Nicolo bit his lip. “I want.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it! This one is done for now! I really hope you all enjoyed it the whole way through. Your feedback has meant so much to me. I am absolutely thrilled to think that some of the stuff I've written has given people feelsies.
> 
> Thank you for reading it! <3
> 
> [tumblr](https://dominimoonbeam.tumblr.com/search/domini%20boombeam)


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